


It Started With a Turkey Buffet

by dominobl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Supernatural AU - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-16 16:01:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dominobl/pseuds/dominobl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The half finished deancas Bridget Jones' Diary au that nobody asked for.</p><p>Castiel is thirty two, in a dead end job and sick of being perpetually single. He resolves to do something about it, if only he can avoid the wily charms of his boss, Balthazar and somehow manage to steer clear of Dean Winchester, who has made his distaste for Castiel more than obvious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Castiel Novak hated the Novak family Christmases. Don’t be mistaken, he loved his family, he really did, but the constant noise and bustling around and general people-filled environment was _not_ something Castiel always relished.

This Christmas had been a particularly busy one – it was not merely his father and siblings this year, but extended family had come over, too. It was a nice, happy time, but Castiel’s nerves were so fraught by the end of Christmas Day that the only thing keeping the smile plastered on his face was forming a mental plot as to how he could somehow stay in London in his flat next year.

Alas, by the time Christmas Day was over, the worst was still yet to come. Boxing Day and his father’s annual Turkey Buffet.

Chuck Novak, Castiel’s dad, loved Christmas. He adored his large family; he loved his friends – what better than combining them all together for one festive themed day of too much food and _far_ too much wine? The Novak family’s patriarch’s attitude to Christmas meant that every Boxing Day, without fail, the large house they owned in rural Gloucestershire was absolutely packed to the brim with friends, neighbours, family – anyone Chuck could convince to come and share in the post-Christmas spirit with them.

Sighing, Castiel poured himself another glass of ‘special punch’ – a concoction knocked up by his cousin, Ruby. She’d refused steadfastly to tell anyone _exactly_ what it contained, all Castiel knew was that it was super alcoholic with a nice sweet kick on the way down. At this point in the day, approaching 4pm with no sign of the crowds in the house dispersing anytime soon, he knew it was the only thing that would get him through the rest of the event.

“Cassie! On the hard stuff already?” his brother Gabriel sidled up to him, waggling his eyebrows comically. Castiel sighed; about to repeat his long-recited speech about how he loved them all very much, but things like this just weren’t for him when Gabriel carried on. Castiel should have made his excuses there and then, when he saw the small smirk twinkling in his brother’s eyes, but whatever reason, he didn’t.

“Seen any hot dishes?” Gabriel said, winking slyly at his brother.

“Gabriel, I hardly think _here_ is where I’m likely to find any future life partners,” Castiel gestured around the room to the noisy guests, all at various states of intoxication. He liked all the people here, truly, but he wasn’t someone to fall for the slightly boisterous type of person that came to Novak Christmas celebrations.

“Huh, so I don’t suppose you’d be interested in the hot-shot human rights barrister who just so happens to be chowing down on some of Dad’s infamous turkey curry?” Gabriel asked, smiling knowingly at his little brother and nonchalantly gesturing across the room.

Letting out another exhausted sigh, Castiel looked to see where Gabriel had pointed, if only to humour him. Stood, in the corner of the room, next to what Castiel only presumed was his parents, was, and Gabriel had a point dammit, a _really_ attractive guy. He looked slightly uncomfortable, something Castiel could only empathise too well with, but the smile that Castiel saw him flash to the older lady he was with was easy; Castiel felt himself swoon a little at the thought of such a smile ever being directed at him.

“ _Single_ , too, and I have it on good account that he definitely doesn’t limit himself to one gender” Gabriel smiled, leaning in to Castiel before deftly grabbing his elbow and tugging him over the corner of the room where Mr Hot-Shot-Barrister was stood; leaving just enough time for Castiel to down the rest of his punch.

Gabriel nimbly joined in to their conversation, asking how they liked the party, before introducing Castiel.

“Castiel,” he said, “say hello to the Winchesters: John,” he began, pointing to the older, gruff looking dark-haired guy, “his beautiful wife, Mary,” Gabriel continued, smiling at the blonde, older lady stood with them, “and their two sons, Sam; the tall one and Dean,” Castiel smiled, first at Gabriel and then towards the newly introduced family - struggling to stop his smile from turning into a smirk when he saw the two (obviously homemade) Christmas themed jumpers that Sam and Dean were wearing. His smirk was quickly stopped, turning into mortification, when Gabriel continued “Cassie, you used to play naked in Dean’s paddling pool as a small child!’

Castiel felt his cheeks redden slightly; his embarrassment worsened by the seeming disinterest that verged on scowling he caught when he took a careful glance at Dean Winchester, whose sparkling green eyes had fixated firmly to the left of Castiel.

“And with that,” Gabriel continued, “I have to go – promised I’d go help dad with the turkey curry!” he said, giving Castiel a sly wink as he twisted around and mingled his way towards the kitchen; leaving Castiel barely enough time to shoot him daggers as he went.

“So Castiel,” Mary Winchester, looked at him, and smiled warmly before continuing “what do you do for a living?”

“Oh, uh, publishing – I work in publicity department of Harting & Muller, have you heard of them?”

“Why, of course I have! Dean, they published _Sullen Drop_ , the book you loved, remember!” Mary said, her enthusiasm startling Castiel, if only because it seemed genuine. Sadly, the same couldn’t be said for her beautiful son, who pulled his lips in a tight, obviously forced, smile Castiel’s way but didn’t say anything.

“I actually attended the launch for that book, it was a favourite of mine, too” Castiel said to no one in particular, unsure of whether or not he should be addressing Mary or Dean.

“Oh, that’s so exciting! I’m very proud of my boys but the legal profession can be ever so dull,” Mary said with a smiling eye roll at Castiel.

“Please, mum” the taller one, Sam, piped up, with a friendly grin in Castiel’s direction “Dean’s going to be in the Supreme Court _next month_ and his case is gonna be in literally all the papers, you know it doesn’t get much more exciting than that” he said, his arm tugging around Dean’s shoulders.

“That _is_ exciting,” Castiel submitted, not daring to chance another look in Dean’s direction; having taken his numerous hints that he wasn’t interested in much of what Castiel had to say.

Castiel was pondering exactly how he was gonna work his way out of his situation when he felt a soft touch on his shoulder. Turning round, he saw his sister, Anna, who smiled at him, before insisting she had to take him away from the Winchesters to come help her with some decoration or other that was threatening to fall. Castiel turned, smiling a farewell to the family, making sure not to look at Dean, before he followed his sister in to the next room.

“Ok so he was _rude_ , wasn’t he?!” Anna asked, looking over at him slightly incredulously.

“Yes, Anna, he was,”

“Ugh, good looks really _can_ only get you so far,” his sister smiled at him “I saw the way he looked at you and thought you might need rescuing” she said, smiling, somewhat bashfully as she basically admitted she hadn’t really needed his help with anything.

“Oh, I see, thank you,” Castiel was grateful for his sister’s intervention, it was probably the best thing a family member had done for him all day, second to Ruby’s brilliant punch, of course.

“You ok?” she enquired, her hand lightly brushing his elbow.

“I’m fine, Anna, thank you, again,” Castiel said, realising that the conversation would soon be over, as Anna’s sultry but gorgeous girlfriend, Bela was slinking her way over to the pair of them. Castiel watched Anna smile as Bela snaked an arm around her waist, and quietly excused himself, ending up sat at the top of the stairs, looking down at the whole festive affair.

Castiel was very happy for Anna, and although he’d been wary of Bela at first, he’d grown quietly fond of her – despite how untrusting and sneaky she seemed to be, he could see that she cared deeply about his sister. It had been a shock for everyone when Anna brought a girl home, no one expected it, but no one had really cared that Anna liked girls, too; soon she was subject to the same ridicule over Bela as the rest of the Novak clan got over their various other halves.

Castiel had come out to his family loudly, in his teenage years, after drunkenly bringing a boy home from a night out. He blushed as he remembered a particularly colourful account Gabriel had once given of the noises and sounds that had come from Castiel’s room that night.

It was evenings like this when Castiel longed for the freedom and carelessness of his youth, once more. He was in his early thirties now, and, although he resented the notion that he _needed_ another half, it had been a long time since he’d had someone on his arm at family events liked this. He felt foolish over the giddy hope that had overcome him slightly when Gabriel first pointed Dean Winchester out to him and, as he sat on the stairs, that foolishness turned quickly to anger. Who did the guy think he _was?_ Just because he had some high-flying legal job and, though it hurt for Castiel to admit it, god-like looks, he wasn’t any better than Castiel.

And with that thought, Castiel turned on his heel and walked up the remaining few stairs. He turned into his room, picking up his hidden hipflask full of whiskey from behind his dresser, and sat on his bed, drinking himself into a content, drunken slumber.

**~**

Castiel had regretted how much he drank on the drive home to London the following day. He’d stopped at a service station on the A40 to pee and get a strong black coffee, and, as luck would have it, only ran into Dean fucking Winchester.

Well, he didn’t exactly _run into_ him. Castiel had joined the queue at Costa Coffee and looked up to realise he recognised the person two ahead of him. His dull senses had sharpened immediately when he recognised the prick from the night before, probably now on his way home to London, too; the lack of festive jumper suggesting he no longer had family members to please with his appearance.

Castiel wasn’t sure if his hearing was so sharp because of his still bubbling anger towards the guy or simply because it had snapped him out of his hangover, but he couldn’t help overhearing the phone conversation he was having.

“Ash, dude, it was awful, they tried to set me up with one of their fucking sons,” he heard. He was sure he heard a laugh rumble from Dean before he continued “yeah, total weirdo, tried to let on to me over some book he was apparently involved with,” There was a pause, followed by another deep rumble of laughter, but by this point, the whole service station was spinning.

Castiel had half walked, half dragged himself back to the toilets where he fell into a cubicle and promptly chundered straight into the waiting toilet.

It was at that point that Castiel realised how dire his situation was: he was a thirty two year old man, perpetually single, sat in a toilet filled with his own bile because some wanker barrister had a low opinion of him based on _absolutely nothing_. He was pathetic, and, hitting him like a stone wall, Castiel realised that the New Year was the perfect reason to buck his ideas the fuck up.

He wasn’t sure if he resolved this whilst still sat cushioned between the toilet and the cubicle wall, or if he’d concluded it in the car, driving home, once he’d eventually dragged himself up, but Castiel had a plan of action.  It involved less drinking (with the exception of wine socially, duh), sorting out the belly that was continually threatening to peek over his belt, and, most importantly, getting a love life – a love life that was devoid of erratic hard to please barrister types and, especially, thinking of the week ahead, his very gorgeous, but very off-limits and total sleazebag boss.

Castiel smiled to himself, as he lay down in bed that night, having polished off a small bottle of wine (needed just this once for his hangover recovery and also, general happiness). He was not going to let _anybody_ drag him back down to his Christmas low.


	2. Chapter 2

The next week started off exceptionally well. Castiel had managed to fit in breakfast, something he usually neglected in favour of an extra twenty minutes in bed, every single day. He’d breezed into work with a smile for his favourite co-worker, Meg, and had maintained his no-drinking-except-socially rule with unexpected ease.

On the Wednesday evening, he’d gone out with his friends – Charlie, Pam and Victor for, as Pamela loudly proclaimed to practically the whole bar when they toasted, “thank fuck Christmas is over” drinks. Castiel had told them all about the disastrous Boxing Day party and the barrister who shall not be named, and they all mumbled condolences and agreed he was a total bastard who Castiel could do without.

“Hey Cas are you _sure_ I can’t introduce you to my friend, Liam, from work?” Charlie had said, a little while later, “he’s cute and nice and maybe you could do with that?” she’d said, her red hair bobbing a little as she’d nodded enthusiastically as she spoke.

“I’m flattered but I have to decline – I don’t exactly think men are a good idea at the moment,” Castiel had said in response. It was true; he didn’t think men were a good idea at the moment. However, he also couldn’t deny that if he went on a date with some other guy, that meant his boss, Balthazar Milton, would be _completely_ off limits.

Castiel knew he shouldn’t, he’d explicitly told himself to stay away from his sleazebag boss. But a constant email chain had somehow sparked up between the two and Castiel was finding the attention from him increasingly hard to ignore.

Balthazar was the quint-essential English gentleman. His well-spoken drawl came so naturally to him that Castiel wondered if he’d been born speaking so perfectly. He was handsome, charming and interesting – a combination that Castiel was fast realising was incredibly hard to resist. His sexual reputation, however, was another thing entirely.

When he had first started working at Harting & Muller, it was one of the first things he and Meg had bonded over. The coy brunette had taken delight in informing him of the long list of Balthazar Milton’s alleged conquests, and in turn, Castiel had taken equal delight in the realisation that, if the rumours were to be believed, his boss did not discriminate over who he fucked.

The intense flirting game that Castiel was now locked in with Milton was a whole different thing entirely. It had begun on Monday afternoon, shortly after Castiel had arrived back from lunch.

 **From:** Balthazar Milton (b.milton@hartingmuller.co.uk)

 **To:** Castiel Novak (c.novak@hartingmuller.co.uk)

_Mr Novak, forgive me if I’m wrong but I distinctly recall you simply never had such an exquisite jaw line before, have you had work done? Would like number of surgeon if so! ;)_

When Castiel first saw the email, his reaction was surprise that Balthazar had sent him anything. He was so much higher up in the food chain that there was rarely cause for them to converse, things usually went between him and his slightly senior colleague, Naomi. However, his surprise had turned to a slightly happier, smug feeling when he had read the email and realised that it appeared his boss was flirting with him. Remembering his resolution, however, Castiel kept his reply curt and to the point, Balthazar would have to try harder than that if he wanted to sway Cas away from his plans.

 **From:** Castiel Novak (c.novak@hartingmuller.co.uk)

 **To:** Balthazar Milton (b.milton@hartingmuller.co.uk)

_Can confirm that jaw line is 100% natural and, infact, not interfered with. Sincere condolences._

Castiel couldn’t help himself but to glance over to where Balthazar’s desk was, perched high above the other desks on a raised platform – a sign of superiority he supposed. It was a position he was grateful for, however, when he managed to catch the slick smile on Balthazar’s face when he opened his reply. He saw Balthazar begin to type and quickly turned his attention back to his computer, waiting for his response and also not wanting to let the guy know he was watching him.

 **From:** Balthazar Milton (b.milton@hartingmuller.co.uk)

 **To:** Castiel Novak (c.novak@hartingmuller.co.uk)

_What a dreadful shame, I could woo all our prospective clients with one look if I had a face as beautiful as yours._

He allowed himself another look over to where Balthazar was sat to see the man smiling over at him. He winked quickly at Castiel before turning to his assistant, who needed his attention, and Castiel felt his cheeks flush pink.

And so their flirting game had continued, by Thursday, Castiel was chuffed to see that Balthazar had lived up to his expectations, feeling flattered as he opened his email to see Inbox(1) and another inappropriately suggestive email waiting patiently from his boss.

Around lunchtime, his chest fluttered as he looked to see he had a new email:

 **From:** Meg Masters (m.masters@hartingmuller.co.uk)

 **To:** Castiel Novak (c.novak@hartingmuller.co.uk)

_Omg would you quit flirting with the fucking boss????_

The instant pink colour that flushed over his cheeks left absolutely no room for Castiel to deny that Meg was right. He looked over to see her smiling fondly at him, before looking down to see another email in his inbox.

 **From:** Meg Masters (m.masters@hartingmuller.co.uk)

 **To:** Castiel Novak (c.novak@hartingmuller.co.uk)

_Just kidding, Clarence, you know I’m only jealous ‘cause you’re not flirting with me ;)_

Relief flooded through Castiel and he smiled over at his friend. Although nothing really was happening between him and Balthazar, it would be unfortunate, to say the least, if anyone caught wind of what they were doing and happened to check either of their inboxes; a thought that reminded Castiel he should probably go ahead and clear out some of the more racy emails he’d received.

He doubted Milton had any intention to follow through with all this flirting however. It was harmless, or at least that’s what Castiel tried to tell himself. However, that afternoon, on his way out of work, Castiel had been forced to accept that this was probably untrue. He’d been waiting for the lift to go down when, last second, someone had wedged a hand against the doors to stop it from closing – a certain Balthazar Milton. He’d smiled a perfect mix of bashful and graceful at Castiel as he entered the lift, causing butterflies in Castiel’s stomach to do completely manic things. As the lift travelled down, you could have cut the sexual tension with a knife.

It took absolutely all the will power Castiel had not to jump on his boss then and there. As the lift finally reached the ground floor and Castiel could exit, heaving a huge sigh of relief, he heard Balthazar call him back.

“Hey, Novak, come here a minute?” Castiel turned and walked back, as much as he wanted to avoid Balthazar, he _was_ his boss. “We have a book launch tomorrow and, well, someone bailed on me last minute, I need someone to introduce Mr Crowley on stage – think you’d be up to the job?”

Castiel tried to think of an excuse, any excuse as to why he couldn’t do it, but he pulled up a blank and had to relent. “That shouldn’t be a problem,” he said, with a curt nod to Milton.

“Brilliant!” Balthazar smiled, it was glorious and Castiel hated himself for finding it so. “It’s at Moseley House, off Chancery Lane, be there at 7pm - the Goldberg Room, I’ll meet you!”

Castiel nodded again, and turned round. As he did so, Balthazar, ever so lightly, tapped his ass and Castiel thought he might actually explode. Trying to maintain composure, he walked steadily out of the building, but he struggled to keep his smile to himself. His super-hot boss _wanted_ him, how could Castiel fail to be utterly flattered?


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel spent longer than he usually would getting ready before he left on Friday. He showered, shaved, spent a good ten minutes, butt naked, deciding on what to wear (a shirt, black tie, smart butt-hugging pants and a black cardigan – he didn’t want to go _too_ formal) and was on the tube to Holborn by 6:30, far earlier than he needed to be, by all accounts.

When he arrived at Moseley House, the Goldberg Room was easy to find. The place was so upmarket, Castiel felt as though he should have taken his shoes off before he entered to preserve the pristine carpet. The Goldberg Room was not the biggest conference area of Moseley House, but that didn’t stop it from being jaw-droppingly impressive to look at – it had a tremendously tall ceiling, with perfect white cornicing engraved with gold on the tips. The wallpaper looked thick and expensive – a duck egg blue colour, again, with gold flowers engraved into the paper. The room was arranged so that there was a small stage at the far end, and various waiters were milling around already, with trays of drinks and small posh nibbles that you only get at such high class events.

It was by the edge of the stage that Castiel eyed Balthazar, who was charming the pants off what he presumed was the head waiter, in charge of catering for the night. He walked up to him, glad that Balthazar caught his eye before he actually arrived, he hated having to awkwardly introduce himself.

Balthazar bid goodbye to the head caterer and explained that Mr Crowley was due on stage at 7:15 – Castiel’s job was simple, he just had to go on stage slightly before that, announce a short introduction to the room, and then he’d be gone.

“Go and mingle, enjoy some of the free food before it’s time,” Balthazar told him, smiling, almost devilishly at Castiel before turning, again, to some assistant or other who needed approval for something Castiel really didn’t care enough about to bother hanging around for.

He silently cursed as he realised he had twenty minutes to kill before he was needed. Castiel wasn’t exactly introverted, but at the same time, he really hated having to mingle and talk with strangers. He wasn’t shy, he just found it incredibly hard to work out what to say, and whenever he _did_ say something; it was inevitably the wrong thing and would tumble out of his mouth like verbal diarrhoea before he had time to stop himself.

Castiel grabbed a glass of champagne from the nearest waiter (social event, he wasn’t breaking his rules) and sipped it slowly, standing awkwardly at the side and hoping nobody would really notice him in the next fifteen minutes. Surveying the room, he reckoned there were about 150 people there already, and more were arriving by the minute. Good job he didn’t get stage fright.

It was as Castiel was surveying the room, keeping check of who was coming in and out, that he noticed someone he _really_ didn’t want to see here, with a petite brunette lady on his arm. Was Dean Winchester _following_ him? First the service station on the motorway and now a book launch from the publishers that Dean knew for a fact he worked at? Thinking overtime, Castiel dismissed the idea – they were just off Chancery Lane, after all, close to the Law Society Headquarters, it figured that Dean would be in with the crowds around here.

The lady on his arm was pretty, she had dark, chestnut coloured eyes and an easy smile. Her long brown hair was arranged beautifully in soft curls that settled on her shoulders and she, like Dean, was more formally dressed than Castiel himself.  He didn’t know exactly why, so he knew it was slightly irrational, but Castiel couldn’t help the pangs of jealousy emanating from his chest at the sight of the two together. He presumed that they weren’t _together_ together – there was no way Gabriel would get his facts wrong, but he still resented that someone else got to hold on to Dean’s arm all night when the guy wouldn’t even give him a second look.

Castiel forced himself to dismiss such thoughts and, with a grim smile, realised he’d somehow downed the remaining contents of his champagne flute while consumed with his bitter thoughts. On the bright side, most of the time had passed and he was due on stage in five minutes. Right on cue, as if he’d somehow read his thoughts, out of nowhere Balthazar was there, and leaning right up close, whispered to Cas that he had five minutes before he was needed. The other man’s breath against his ear almost made Castiel shiver, and the soft caress of his waist Balthazar gave as he walked past him left tingles on his skin.

Looking up, Castiel saw Dean Winchester briefly look at him, sporting a surprisingly shocked expression. Maybe he was surprised to see Castiel here, or, and Castiel stupidly hoped this was the case, maybe he was jealous of how Castiel already had the attention of an attractive guy. But Dean glanced away quickly and the moment was lost before Castiel could place why exactly the barrister had been looking over at him with such expression.

Castiel decided to make his way to the stage, trying to shake all thoughts of Dean Winchester from his head as he went. Before he knew it, it was very nearly 7:15 and he caught Balthazar’s gaze, who gave him an encouraging nod, his cue to take to the stage.

Switching on the mic, Castiel made a noise as if he was clearing his throat, in the hope that everyone would realise that the event was starting and they should direct their attention to him. Sadly, the room was full, with approximately 200 people now, Cas guessed, all chatting away animatedly and having their own discussions. Sighing, Castiel realised he was going to have to get their attention verbally.

“Hello, everybody,” he said, trying to sound commanding. A handful of people looked round, Castiel tried not to notice that Dean Winchester was one of them. “Helllooooo,” he spoke in to the microphone, trying to make his voice boom out a little by prolonging the word. He had the attention of about half the room, now, and looking over to Balthazar to see him smiling at him, Castiel figured that would be enough to introduce Mr Crowley, who was Balthazar’s own boss.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began “on behalf of Harting and Muller, I’d like to thank you all for turning up this evening,” Castiel paused as the various remaining bubbles of conversation were now stopping and everyone turned their attention to him. He failed at avoiding Dean Winchester and noticed the man was smiling, no, smirking, he was _amused_ by Castiel. Screw him, Cas thought, and carried on with his introduction “and now, I have the pleasure of introducing you all to Mr Fergus Crowley everybody,” Castiel finished, awkwardly swinging his hands in the direction of the company director who had now walked on to the stage next to him. He hurried out of the way and off the stage to polite applause from the audience.

Unsure exactly of where to go now, Castiel decided that his best bet was towards Balthazar. His boss greeted him with a smile, and gestured for him to stand next to him, but continued to watch Crowley on stage. Castiel tried not to make a jerking motion when he felt Balthazar’s hand on the small of his back but he couldn’t stop himself fast enough, glancing sideways, he saw Balthazar smirk. Oh God, where was this going?

The talking, with various speakers, all of whom were waxing lyrical about the book, lasted for about 40 minutes, in which time, Castiel managed to make his way through another two glasses of champagne. By the time it was over and everyone resumed the general milling around and starting conversations with strangers, Castiel was feeling quite light headed. Balthazar’s hand had remained on the small of Castiel’s back throughout the speeches, he’d even taking to tracing small circles right around the top of Castiel’s ass that felt _so good_ but were _so_ fucking inappropriate, given the occasion and their professional relationship.

As the room buzzed back to life, Balthazar turned to Cas, spinning Castiel towards him at the same time, so that they were facing each other, their lips mere inches apart. Balthazar leaned in to Castiel’s ear and whispered “I know some of the staff here and have been assured there’s an empty room just down the corridor, if you want to get away,” his breath tingled against Castiel’s ear and Castiel was kinda tipsy and Balthazar really was gorgeous.

There was a tugging feeling in the back of his mind telling him _no, no this was not part of the plan – this was explicitly not part of the plan_ but the alcohol and the smooth circles Balthazar was now drawing on Castiel’s thigh, where he’d now placed his hand, drowned out that feeling completely. Castiel nodded and allowed himself to be taken away by Balthazar, out of the grand room they were in and to somewhere entirely more intimate.

The room he found himself in was much smaller. It was corporate, still, obviously intended for smaller meetings and the like, but there was a long sofa that stretched out completely over the length of one wall, and this was where Balthazar motioned for Cas to go.

All too quickly, he was being pressed down against the sofa and Balthazar was on top of him. Cas had no idea when exactly their lips met, but they did, and suddenly he was crushing himself against Balthazar, pressing as hard as he could. His hands roamed along Balthazar’s back, settling on his ass and drawing him in closer as Cas deepened their kiss, desperately craving the taste of another man on his lips.

“Oh _Castiel_ ,” Balthazar sighed. Castiel didn’t know why, but his name sounded about ten times more attractive when Balthazar sighed it against his mouth. He pulled his hands up into Balthazar’s hair, grasping on to something, anything, to keep the man there, close.

He gasped as he felt Balthazar’s hand travel south, lazily stroking against his now hardening dick.

He felt Balthazar softly chuckle “this is what you get when you send all those teasing emails about your fucking perfect jaw to me all week,” Balthazar half growled, half whispered, before changing tack, one hand on Castiel’s chest, the other still stroking against his dick, whilst Balthazar kissed and sucked against Cas’ jaw.

It was all Castiel could do to hold out so he didn’t come there and then. Cas inhaled sharply as Balthazar, using both of his hands, undid Castiel’s tie, then set to work removing his cardigan and his shirt. Balthazar looked so _unkempt_ , his hair was generally perfectly arranged but now, it was everywhere, a complete mess. His usual perfectly ironed shirt was creased and folded where Cas had grabbed at it and Castiel couldn’t take in more of the sight if he’d tried, he loved it.

Balthazar began taking off his own shirt and Cas reached up to run his hands over Balthazar’s beautifully sculpted chest as he did so. Balthazar smirked, obviously loving the attention, “just like that, Cassie,” he urged, as Castiel used his fingers to run small circles over Balthazar’s thigh bones, like the ones Balthazar had used on him in the other room.

His heart skipped when he felt Balthazar’s erection against his leg. Balthazar leaned forward again, kissing all over Cas’ neck, sucking and biting occasionally, making soft moans escape Castiel’s mouth each time he strayed from his kissing technique. Cas let out a low, guttural moan as he felt Balthazar’s hard dick against his own, Balthazar was slowly gyrating his hips, pressing harder and more firmly against Castiel’s cock each time he did so, eliciting more and more pained gasps from Cas that only seemed to encourage him more.

Finally, unable to take all the pressure anymore and just needing to _do something_ , Castiel snaked his hands into Balthazar’s pants, not entirely displeased with what he found there, either. Slowly, he began to strum his hand up and down Balthazar’s dick, the small smirk on Balthazar’s face soon turning into a more pained but pleasure filled expression. He whispered Castiel’s name between gasps and moans, getting louder as he got closer to orgasm.

Gasping and clutching at Castiel’s chest, Balthazar continued rocking his hips, guiding his cock in and out of Castiel’s hand, leaving very little work for Castiel to actually do, letting him enjoy the image of this gorgeous man on top of him, so close to orgasm purely from things Castiel had done. The thought made Castiel’s own cock twitch and the pressure of his trousers were too much, Castiel thought, they would have to be off, and soon.

It was as Balthazar was surely incredibly close to coming and Castiel was concentrated fixedly on the other man’s face, his moans, his gasps, that the door clicked open.

Both men froze in place, as they looked over. Castiel’s stomach dropped instantly – there, stood in the doorway, was all gorgeous, handsome 6ft 2 of Dean Winchester. At first, he looked as surprised as Castiel, then, his face changed, his expression hardening – he looked angry.

“Fucking disgusting,” he muttered, staring Castiel straight in the eye as he let go of the door handle and charged away, down the corridor back to the book launch, Castiel presumed. Castiel could have sworn that Dean had looked hurt, but that couldn’t be right and, again, the eye contact was so fleeting that there was no way he could be sure in any event.

It wasn’t until after he’d vacated the room that Castiel noticed he no longer had his hand down Balthazar’s pants but on his face, and smiling apologetically down at him, Balthazar shook his head, a simple sign that they should not continue. He was surprisingly calm as he spoke, joking about how he’d never have been able to keep his cool in the office if the sex had got much hotter.

Castiel smiled bashfully at him, as Balthazar extracted himself from the messy entanglement of their bodies.

“I’m sorry Balthazar,” Castiel began, but was cut off by the other man before he could go any further.

“Oh no, the apology should be mine, Castiel. I should have made sure I locked the door after we came in” he smiled, “I was a little too caught up in the moment,” Castiel thought of how lovely he looked when he smiled. Not the same as other smiles he’d seen, the immediate one that sprang to mind was that of Dean Winchester, when he’d first seen him at the party, smiling with such love and affection at his mother. Castiel cursed himself when he realised exactly which smile he was comparing favourably to Balthazar’s. Who even _did_ that after someone, especially someone who probably hates you, catches you having sex with someone else? Sighing, Castiel thought of how little hope there was for him.

Balthazar seemed to mistake Castiel’s sigh at disappointment for not being able to finish what they started, and he traced his arm over and around Castiel’s waist “Don’t worry, Cassie, we’ll definitely finish this another time,” he purred, winking when Castiel turned to look him in the eye. “Besides,” he said “that Dean Winchester’s a nasty piece of work, I shudder to think how we got so intimate in such close vicinity to him anyway,”

Well, Castiel’s ears pricked up at that “What do you mean, Balthazar? A nasty piece of work?”

Balthazar looked at Castiel somewhat forlornly before he carried on “Yes,” he said, “he was best man at my wedding you know?”

“Wait, you’re _married?!_ ” Castiel spluttered, confusion rattling in his head as he struggled to come to terms with the fact that he may have just felt up a married man.

“No,” Balthazar said, a sadness in his eyes as he looked up again to meet Castiel’s own “I was, very briefly. My wife and I, we were terribly in love – when we were married, we honeymooned for a good two months, travelling, eating out in the most magnificent places, experiencing cultures most people only really get to dream of,” Castiel had no idea where he was going, but didn’t say anything, letting the other man continue.

“It was when we got back from our honey moon, the same night infact, I had to go for a meeting, sort out my affairs after such a long period away from home. I got back and found my good friend, Mr Dean Winchester, straddling my beautiful wife, in my bed, both as naked as the day they were born,” Balthazar’s eyes were sad, which made Castiel angry. Before now, his dislike of Dean Winchester had been based on how irrationally rude he’d been about him, but now, armed with this knowledge, his anger towards the man flared.

“Oh Balthazar, I’m very sorry,” Castiel said, moving his hand to find Balthazar’s own and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Not to worry Castiel,” Balthazar smiled a sorrow filled smile “it was a long time ago, now, no point in dwelling on the past,”

“Of course,” Castiel replied, giving Balthazar’s hand another careful squeeze before he reached down to pull his shirt on “I suppose I should be going, now, events like this aren’t really my thing, truth be told,”

Balthazar smiled warmly. “No problem, Castiel. Thank you for coming, it was truly lovely to see you here.” He paused, seemingly unsure over whether or not he should carry on, before visibly steeling himself and continuing, anyway “I enjoyed myself, I hope you did too,” and Castiel could have melted at how sincere and lovely his words sounded.

Castiel quickly got dressed while Balthazar watched, and, before he left the room, he bent down and kissed Balthazar on the forehead. “Goodbye, Balthazar, I’ll see you on Monday,” he said, gently, with one last squeeze of the other man’s hand before he turned and left the room, smiling to himself.

Maybe sleeping with Balthazar wasn’t the mistake he had assumed it would be. Sure, Balthazar had a reputation for sleeping around and generally being unfaithful – but he’d been married, surely that meant he did want to have a stable relationship at some point? Maybe he could want another one? Castiel hoped this was the case, not daring to hope that he might be the person that Balthazar would choose to commit to.

Hell, it was no surprise he had trouble committing when Cas thought of the heartbreak he must have gone through at the hands of Dean Winchester, like Castiel needed any more reason to hate his guts.

It was as Castiel was walking through the gold swivel doors to the building that he realised, with a start, that he didn’t have his wallet. It must have fallen out of his pocket at some point when he was with Balthazar in the room they’d just been in. Sighing, and steeling himself for potential post-sex awkwardness, Castiel made his way back up to the room.

He didn’t even think to knock, he just walked straight in, and, just as quickly as he walked in, he wished he hadn’t. Balthazar was still there, on the same sofa, it looked like he’d barely moved. Except now, there were two naked ladies draped over him, one on each side. Castiel could barely even look at the scene. He hated himself for it later but he almost made his excuses and left before he’d even picked up his wallet.

The lazy smile that was on Balthazar’s face when he first came in had now dropped. “Cassie…” he began, but Castiel simply didn’t have time for it.

He stalked in to the room, picked up his wallet, which he had spied lying next to one of the legs of the sofas and stalked out of the room before Balthazar had a chance to utter a word more.

As Castiel sat on the tube, back to his lonely flat, his one resounding thought was _fuck men_. Dean Winchester was an ass, he’d hated Castiel from the second he saw him and Castiel couldn’t figure out any reason why. And now Balthazar, Balthazar who Cas had left only to return to five minutes later to find embroiled in a threesome. He had hardly expected commitment from Balthazar, but he had allowed himself to get his hopes up, that maybe he could or would start to mean something to the guy; Castiel couldn’t help the betrayal he found taking root inside of him.

He should have stuck to his resolve, he thought, over and over. Castiel picked up a bottle of wine from the grocery store he lived above and, as he sat alone, drinking it – he resolved not to trust beautiful men who say all the right things. No. From now on, Castiel was out to help himself and no one else.

His defiant demeanour, however, slipped as he ended up polishing off the whole bottle of wine. Which was how he ended up falling asleep, on the phone to Charlie, who he had confessed everything to in a somewhat hysterical state. Not that Castiel ever really got hysterical, but there had been tears.

“Goodnight Castiel,” Charlie smiled down the phone, as she heard soft snoring sounds from the other end, figuring her friend must have finally stopped thinking and nodded off.


	4. Chapter 4

Castiel tried and tried to make working at the publishing company _work_ after his failed fling with Balthazar. Two weeks later, having been unable to concentrate at all on his work and after numerous tellings off from his supervisor, Naomi, Castiel decided that it would be better if he found work elsewhere.

He hadn’t expected to find work again so fast, but he’d managed to cash in a few favours with Gabriel, and landed himself a job as a reporter for one of the smaller national papers, the Evening Mail. The pay wasn’t as good as his current job, but there was plenty of room for promotion, and the hours were much more flexible, something that appealed to Castiel. He’d always fancied himself as something of an intrepid investigator, too, not that he’d ever let anybody else know that.

It wasn’t that Castiel had expected Balthazar to take his decision lightly; it was just that he was adamant there was nothing that the man could do to stop him leaving. So, after going through the process of resigning, which involved handing in a letter to Naomi with two weeks’ notice that then had to be approved by Balthazar, he wasn’t expecting any issues.

A few days after he’d handed his resignation in, he was called over to Balthazar’s ‘office’. Castiel had always hated using the term office to describe the slightly raised desk, he could never understand why they hadn’t just given Balthazar his own room and be done with it.

“Castiel,” Balthazar began, motioning for Castiel to sit on the chair opposite him at his desk “I could go through lists and lists of reasons why you shouldn’t leave us, but I’m going to get straight to the point – we need you here, you’re one of our best publicists, you care about the job and we’d never be able to replace you so well,” Balthazar frowned, then worked his face in to a small, what Castiel presumed was meant to be taken as hopeful smile.

“I’m sorry Balthazar,” Castiel said, making himself ignore how pretty the other guy was “but you really should have thought about that before our,” Castiel paused, trying to work out the right way to word what he was about to say “ _indiscretions_ a few weeks ago,” Cas finished firmly.

“Cassie, I don’t think you understand, when I say _we_ need you here, I mean _I_ need you here,”

“I beg your pardon?” Castiel said, his brows lightly furrowed as he returned the other man’s gaze.

“I need you here, Castiel,” Balthazar repeated, pulling his hands up so they covered his chest, the desired effect being to show how sincere he was.

Something jumped in Castiel’s chest at the thought of Balthazar needing him. Then he remembered the lazy sleazy smile on Balthazar’s face when he’d caught him with the two women the night of the book launch. He remembered how betrayed he’d felt, the sympathetic looks Charlie had been giving him ever since his drunken phone call to her, and his mind was made up.

“Balthazar, I’m sorry but I’ve made my mind up – I’ll be leaving Harting & Muller a week tomorrow, please” Castiel said; his mouth a hard line, a silent dare for Balthazar to even try and object.

“Well I’m not going to approve that, Cassie,” Balthazar said.

“You can’t do that,” Cas replied, his voice ever so slightly higher “you are literally legally bound to let me leave if I choose,”

“I’m only legally bound if you take us to an employment tribunal, Cassie, and I don’t think you’re going to do that,”

“Balthazar, I am leaving, and if you don’t approve my formal resignation, then I will walk out of the doors to this office right now and I will not be coming back,”

Balthazar didn’t say anything for what seemed like a while, he just stared at Castiel. Castiel steadfastly returned his gaze.

“No, Castiel, I don’t think you will,” Balthazar finally said.

“Then you’re wrong,” Castiel told him, rising from his seat. He wasn’t sure quite what he was doing, he just put one foot in front of the other, concentrated on the doors at the other side of the room, all he had to do was make it to them.

“Castiel, please!” he heard Balthazar cry out from behind him. The insolence of the guy, he just couldn’t take no for an answer, could he? Well that was enough, Castiel snapped. Turned on his heel, and looked back at Balthazar. By now, most of the office was aware that something was going on and the noises of the workplace; keyboards, conversations, the occasional laughter, had all quietened down to the bare minimum. Pretty much every eye was on Castiel, something Cas tried hard to ignore. He didn’t expect his voice to come out as hard as it did, but it did, and Castiel thanked God that it did.

“No, _Mr Milton_ ,” Castiel said, before pausing to breathe “I shan’t be staying here - you can say and do whatever you like but I’m sorry to tell you that I can’t be swayed. I told you I’d leave right now if you didn’t agree. You didn’t agree, so I am leaving right now. Because, frankly,” Castiel paused again, daring himself to continue, knowing there would be absolutely no going back if he did “I’d rather have a job wiping Adolf Hitler’s arse than work for you one minute longer,”

There was a kind of collective intake of breath in the office as Castiel finished. Cas stayed where he was, keeping eye contact with Balthazar a few seconds longer, but the other man did nothing. Cas turned away again, catching Meg’s eye as he did so – she was smiling. Cas walked quickly to his desk, picking up some of his things as he went, he didn’t have the time for everything, but it didn’t matter.

It wasn’t until he was nearly out of the office that he noticed everyone was smiling at him as he went, a few people clapping him on the back. He heard a cheer, _Meg_ , he thought, and then a few people started clapping, too. He knew he shouldn’t, but as he reached the doors to his office, he turned round one final time. Balthazar had gone, Cas didn’t know where, but he couldn’t see him when he looked.

Meg was laughing, and was clapping more fiercely than most. He happened to glance over at his boss, Naomi, to find that even she had a smile on her face; she winked at him as he caught her eye. Cas didn’t know what he was doing, exactly, but he found himself giving a small salute to the office, before he turned on his heel and made his way out of Harting & Muller, forever.

**~**

Two nights later, on the Friday, Castiel was surprised to hear a knock at the door. Opening it, he saw Meg, laden with a small cardboard box and a smile on her face.

“Hey Clarence, brought your things from the office for you,” she told him, peeking round him to look into his flat. She looked back to him before continuing “you don’t have company, do you? Mind if I come in? It’s fucking _freezing_ ,” she complained, before half walking, half elbowing past Castiel.

“No, of course, come in,” Castiel said, closing the door as he watched Meg make herself at home. He thought it better not to ask exactly how she knew where he lived.

Meg plonked the box full of his things (of which there weren’t really very many, Castiel had never seen much reason to personalise his work space so much) on Castiel’s small coffee table, before kicking back on the sofa and putting her feet up.

“Uh, would you like a drink?” Castiel asked, unsure of exactly what the protocol was for unexpected visits from former colleagues.

“I’d love one!” Meg replied, “what have you got?”

That was a good question, Castiel thought, realising he didn’t have much in at all. Alcohol was out, Castiel had stuck firmly to his detox for the past three weeks, and besides coffee and the chances that there would be a few herbal tea bags lying around (presents from Pamela, of course) there wasn’t much else.

“Coffee?” Castiel offered.

“Perfect,” Meg said, smiling up at him from the interior decorating magazine she’d picked from his coffee table and was absent mindedly picking through.

Meg followed him through to the kitchen and perched on a worktop, opposite where Castiel was making coffee. “So, care to tell me exactly how it all went sour between you and the boss?” Meg asked.

“Not really,” Castiel replied with a sigh “It was stupid, I think, I don’t know.”

“Castiel?” Meg said, “You didn’t boil his bunny or anything awful, did you?”

Castiel frowned at her, “I don’t understand, Meg, I don’t think Balthazar owns a rabbit,”

Meg just chuckled dryly to herself “oh good, seems like we’re safe from any fatal attraction you might have, then”

Castiel handed her drink to her and sighed once more. He didn’t mean to tell Meg everything, but he did, and it was kind of a relief. He’d told Charlie and he’d confessed snippets to Gabriel when he’d begged for his help in finding a new employer, but Meg knew Cas and Balthazar, and she was a surprisingly good listener; cooing and aww-ing in all the right places. When Castiel had finished, she pulled him into a hug and told him he’d done exactly the right thing.

“Don’t you worry, Clarence,” she told him, and then, as something of an afterthought, “and if I ever have to make the bastard tea, I’ll be sure to lace it with salt or some shit,” she told him, grinning wickedly, which made Castiel smile. If one good thing had come out of his time at Harting & Muller, it was definitely the possibility of friendship with Meg.


	5. Chapter 5

It was Saturday night and Castiel was sat in a Soho bar with his three favourite friends: Pam, Victor and Charlie, of course. The three of them had dragged him out so he wouldn’t, to quote Victor ‘spend the night moping in his own misery’. Cas had thought that was funny because he really wasn’t feeling so miserable – he thought life was looking up, again.

Regardless, he hadn’t put up much of a fight; he loved his friends and it felt like he hadn’t seen them properly in a while. It was also an excellent excuse to revoke his alcohol ban, which was why the four of them were sat around a table sharing their second bottle of Pinot Grigio.

Pamela was excitedly telling them all about her planned trip to Budapest, which naturally ended up in fierce debate cantered around how you pronounced ‘Budapest’. Charlie was insisting, against all rational arguments, that it was pronounced Buda- _pesh_ , no one else was convinced.

No one had mentioned Castiel’s resignation, but he knew they’d all know by now, having sent snippets of details to each of them over the past couple of days. He was glad no one brought it up, though; tonight he just wanted to have fun with his friends and forget about work and his cursed love life, or lack of.

Castiel was feeling slightly buzzed after two and a half glasses of wine, so he didn’t resist when Pamela dragged him up to go and dance with her. She told him with a conspiratorial grin that she had her eye on one of the barmen, so they’d indulged, laughing and joking, in some seriously sexy dancing for the guy’s benefit. Pamela whispered that she thought they’d had the desired effect, and dropped Castiel back off at their table before heading over to the bar for more drinks and some shameless flirting her barman.

Castiel smiled, watching her slink off to the bar, before turning round to face his friends. As it happened, Charlie was nowhere to be seen and so Victor was sat talking to a guy that Castiel vaguely recognised. Long silky hair, really fucking lanky, quite pretty… it dawned on Castiel that his friend was only locked into conversation with Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester’s younger brother that he’d met at the party.

Victor looked up at him when he turned round “Hey Castiel, have you met Sam, here? Criminal prosecutor extraordinaire. Aka the guy I need to keep buttered up so that he’ll keep sending down low lives for me” Victor said, glancing over at Sam, who was grinning.

“You know what, we _have_ met, haven’t we Castiel?” Sam said as Cas watched realisation dawn on him. “Just before New Year, at your family’s turkey buffet, yeah?”

“That’s right,” Castiel replied; forcing a smile that he hoped didn’t look too grim.

“Wait,” Victor said, turning back to Sam “So the infamous Dean Winchester is _your brother_?” Castiel groaned, the last thing he wanted was Sam to know, or even worse, to pass on, all the gory details of his awkward at best interactions with Dean Winchester.

“Yeah,” Sam said with a low laugh, “should I be concerned that his reputation precedes him?”

Castiel jumped in, before Victor had a chance to say anymore, not trusting his friend to be as tactful as he’d like “Not at all,” Cas smiled “his name just came up when I told everyone about my holidays,” Cas shot Victor a warning look when Sam wasn’t looking.

“Huh,” Sam said “Oh yeah, Dean was a little dismissive of you, wasn’t he?” Sam paused, Castiel presumed he was considering exactly how to put the next part “Don’t take it too personally, Castiel, Christmas has always been a hard time for Dean and I think he tries to copy my dad’s whole ‘gruff, not interested’ persona sometimes,” Sam said, complete with air quotes, smiling at Castiel reassuringly.

“I’m sure,” Castiel said, “it’s not a problem, anyway,” he smiled back at Sam, reminding himself that his opinions of Dean Winchester were also moulded by the way he’d heard Dean talk about him at the service station. His brother seemed lovely, but Castiel wasn’t so sure he was ready to be so forgiving of Dean Winchester just yet. Trusting beautiful men hadn’t worked out so well for him recently.

“Well, great, ‘cause Dean’s actually gonna be here any second!” Sam said chirpily “Infact, perfect timing, there he is now,” Sam waved over to a figure by the doorway that Castiel couldn’t quite make out yet.

“Good god,” Castiel mumbled under his breath, shooting a _help me_ look to Victor, who at least had the decency to look just as alarmed and surprised as Castiel felt.

It was at that exact moment that Charlie returned, scanned both of their perturbed faces, and pulled Castiel off his chair and over to her so she could give him a whispered demand for an explanation of what was going on. Castiel explained what had happened, taking his time so that he could look engrossed in conversation when Dean came over and wouldn’t have to talk to him. To his horror, when he finished, Charlie was actually smiling.

“Sorry, but how is anything _funny_ here, Charlie?!” he spluttered.

“It’s not funny, you’re just cute when you’re flustered,” Charlie said, affectionately patting him on the nose with her finger for emphasis.

“I, what?” Castiel started, then remembered he was trying to avoid a guy who was now mere inches away from him, being introduced to one of his best friends “Please, Charlie, can we leave now?”

Charlie seemed to consider this for a second, glancing over several times at the Winchesters, before tilting her head in an obvious indication that she’d made her mind up.

“Do you know what, Castiel? No, I think we’re gonna stay here for a little bit,” she decided, turning herself around Castiel so that he was almost facing the table again.

“Charlie, what?”

“I just don’t think Dean Winchester’s been _that_ bad. I mean, total arsehole, don’t get me wrong, but he’s no Balthazar Milton, Cas, and hey, he might have just been having a really bad day when you last saw him!” She looked over in the general direction of the Winchesters before smiling at someone, and Castiel could have sworn he saw her blush. He looked over to follow her gaze only to see a small, elfish looking girl stood nestled between the two men.

“Oh my God you fancy their friend, don’t you?” Castiel said, mocking horror.

“Maybe,” Charlie said, wincing a little at Castiel’s horrified face. “Ok stay and I’ll love you forever, pleeeeeease Cas?” she said. Castiel sighed. He didn’t want to stay, but Charlie’s begging was kinda pathetic. Besides, he thought, what were friends for if not to help other friends get laid?

“I was under the impression you already love me unconditionally,” Cas said, feigning hurt as he turned round and sat back in his seat, silently agreeing to stay for Charlie.

“I do, Cassie baby, I do,” she said, taking his face in her hands and planting a kiss on his cheek before seating herself down on the seat next to him “you’re the best and you know it,”

**~**

Two hours and several glasses of wine (as well as multiple shots that Pamela had convinced Castiel were a good idea) later and the evening wasn’t turning out so badly after all. Charlie was having fun chatting up Dean’s friend, Gilda, who was from Italy and very lovely but who’d only be in the UK for another couple of weeks, not that it perturbed Charlie at all. The eye contact Pamela was maintaining with her barman was near unwavering and Castiel was silently impressed with her steely determination to seduce the man.

That had left him and Victor to chat with Sam, Sam’s girlfriend, Jess and Dean, who, although Castiel _really_ hated to admit it, was actually really kinda fun to be around. Castiel had been making a point of being the first to finish laughing every time Dean made a joke, something Victor noticed almost immediately and that just seemed to add to his own personal amusement.

But the more he drank, the less resistant he was to him. Dean had been sat on the other side of their table to him and Jess was next to him. Several times, he’d ended up talking to Jess on their own (her dad part-owned a newspaper, and she was all too willing to pass on any tips she’d picked up for his new job, Castiel liked her a lot) and he’d caught Dean looking over at the two of them. At first, Castiel thought he was just being a dick again, perhaps he considered Jess to be too good to sit and joke with someone like Castiel. But as the night wore on and it kept happening, Castiel wasn’t so sure if that was the real reason. He was aware that that could simply be the alcohol making his brain work funny, though.

Eventually, Jess dragged Sam up dance and when Castiel looked over, Victor was nowhere to be seen, leaving him sat with Dean Winchester.

“I, uh,” Castiel began.

“Yeah, me too,” Dean said. They both kinda clumsily (the fucking shots, Castiel thought) got off their seats at the same time. Castiel wasn’t sure where to go, so he picked up his drink and glanced around the bar looking for one of his friends.

Charlie was nestled in a corner with Gilda – at least someone had got lucky tonight, Castiel thought; if the close proximity of their faces was anything to go by. Damn, though, that was one less friend who could save him from the awkwardness of him and Dean Winchester on their own.

He cursed; realising couldn’t make out Pamela or Victor anywhere. Castiel thought that Victor better have had a good excuse to ditch him and leave him with the Winchesters.

“Come on,” he heard a voice startlingly close to his ear and was shocked, to say the least, to see it was Dean.

“What? I-” Castiel didn’t have enough time to protest, as Dean had dragged him over to the other side of the bar by a wall, kind of near where Sam and Jess were dancing. Castiel tried hard to ignore the tingling on his wrist where Dean had touched him.

They just stood there for a few seconds, facing each other. The music was low and heavy, and combined with the alcohol that had made him feel so light headed, Castiel felt a little like he was floating. He realised, surprised again, that Dean was dancing.

Castiel had never been one for dancing, but he’d had just enough to drink that he considered it as a possibility. He had no idea what he was doing, but he started, slowly, in time with the music, to move his body carefully. He blushed a little as he realised he’d unconsciously started dancing in time with Dean.

 _‘I’m waking up to ash and dust, I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust’_ the lyrics of the song seeming to carry Castiel as they danced, still not entirely sure what he was doing or what the hell was going on.

 _‘I’m breathing in the chemicals’_ , Castiel would have barely felt it had it been any other situation, because Dean’s fingers brushed against his hips so lightly, but now, here, it was all he could feel.

 _‘I’m breaking in, shaping up, checking out of the prison bus’_ they were locked in to each other, barely touching, not even making eye contact, but the tension as they danced was palpable.

 _‘This is it, the apocalypse’_ Castiel felt Dean’s hands on his hips, now, not merely fingertips. He leaned into him so that Dean’s hands could curl around Castiel’s back, his own palms splaying out flat on Dean’s chest in the process.

 _‘I’m waking up I feel it in my bones’_ Castiel chanced a look up to Dean’s face. His eyes were only slightly open, his lips parted. Castiel was so close he could count Dean’s eyelashes if he wished. One of his hands crept up so that it was resting ever so slightly on Dean’s neck; he could feel his pulse between his fingertips which, with an excited jolt, Castiel realised was racing just as fast as his own.

 _‘Enough to make my system’s blow’_ Dean’s hands had lazed up Castiel’s back and he pulled Cas’ chest firmly against his own; they stood pressed together for a few seconds. Castiel wasn’t sure what the rushing in his ears was - the music, his own heartbeat or brought on entirely by the alcohol and how close he was to Dean. His eyes made contact with Dean’s and all thoughts of deciphering the rushing noise were scattered as he found himself entranced by the flood of green staring back at him.

Castiel couldn’t be certain who cleared the final space between the two of them, but he suspected it might have been Dean. His grip on Dean’s neck tightened ever so slightly as their lips met, sending light shivers down Castiel’s spine. Dean’s hands were on his face, soft, barely touching, but keeping him firmly locked in their kiss.

He wasn’t sure how long it lasted, but every time he thought about it afterwards, he was certain that it hadn’t been for long enough. The taste of Dean Winchester on his mouth made his lips tingle, the gentle brush of his fingers roaming against his cheek, leaving skin desperate to feel the sensation once more.

Castiel wasn’t inclined to take notice of the scuffle he could hear taking place on the other side of the bar whilst he was being in such a position, but when he heard Victor’s voice shouting something he wouldn’t dare repeat in front of his father, he had to tear himself from Dean.

He looked over to see Victor about to sling a punch to one of the bartenders, who looked suspiciously like Pamela’s bartender from earlier and sighed. Looking back up to Dean apologetically, he murmured that he should go help.

By the time he had prized Victor off the other guy, who was mumbling something about how ‘she wanted it’ and turned back to where he’d been stood, Dean was gone, nowhere in sight. 


	6. Chapter 6

Castiel woke up the next day on Pamela’s sofa. He remembered the two of them had bundled Victor into a cab and then realised they only had enough cash to make it to Pamela’s, so Castiel had stayed. No one had explained to him exactly how or why the fight had started out, but Castiel was certain that it was Pamela’s bartender that Victor was fighting with so he didn’t push it; knowing that they’d tell him if they wanted to.

He didn’t think any of his friends had seen him with Dean, which he was thankful of. He had no idea what was going on between the two of them and he really wasn’t feeling having to dissect his feelings with his friends, which one of them would undoubtedly want to do.

It was half past nine when he woke up and Pamela was still asleep. He showered (firmly pushing aside thoughts of green eyes and hazy kisses as he did so) then went and made coffee for him and green tea for Pamela. He knocked softly on her door and she called out that he could come in.

“I made you tea,” he said, sitting down on the bed as she sat up so she could take the cup from him to drink some.

“Thanks Cassie, you’re a star,” she replied, blowing on the hot tea before she drank.

“Are you ok, Pamela?”

“I’m fine honey,” she said with a smile “can’t guarantee the same about Victor,” she added, grinning at Castiel.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” he asked. Pamela’s smile faded and she seemed to consider it for a second before she looked brightly up at him again.

“It’s ok Castiel. But thank you, maybe I will some other time,”

Castiel nodded in response; no more needed to be said. But he still took Pamela’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Castiel left Pamela’s place at around 11 and spent the rest of the weekend swotting up for his new job at the Evening Mail, which he was now starting on Monday. It was a welcome distraction from confused thoughts about Dean Winchester, namely.

He had to research for a case – it was in the Supreme Court, the highest court in the UK he realised, to his horror. The case involved a 20 year old guy, Thomas Hollins, who’d set up a website that hosted links to videos where people could watch films and TV illegally online. The US wanted him to be extradited there so that he could be tried and sent to jail – his family were protesting because Hollins had never even been to the US and his alleged crimes had all taken place in the UK, who didn’t want to convict him of anything. An online petition had gained hundreds and thousands of signatures and Hollins had lots of high profile supporters and in short, the case was a big deal.

Castiel had wondered why he’d been assigned such an important case when he was so new, he’d posed the matter to Gabriel on Saturday evening when he’d rang to check in on him.

“I think they’re checking out how you handle pressure, Cassie,”

“You do?”

“Yeah, sure I do, they’re probably not going to make huge losses in numbers based on this case ‘cause everyone will buy the paper anyway to see what happens. I think they’re testing out just how good you are,”

“That’s sadistic,”

Gabriel chuckled, “welcome to the press, little brother,”

Cas had managed to keep his nerves under check pretty well until late on Sunday evening when he realised, with a flutter of his stomach, that he was going to the _Supreme Court_ tomorrow to report on a case on the first day of his new job. Jesus.

He wouldn’t be alone of course; it was his job to try and get quotes and then form some semblance of a report on the case by the end of the week when the court would announce their decision, but there were other things that needed to be done. He’d have a photographer with him and his new boss, Andy, had told him that he might send the work experience kid along with him for coffee runs and stuff. The prospect of being in charge of some teenager was daunting too, in itself.

**~**

Something Castiel had learned, fast and beyond doubt by Thursday, was that, exciting though the outcomes may be – court cases were _dull_. They’d waited around all day every day so far, in the area designated for press. The few exciting moments would be when someone came to make a statement and they would all scrounge for quotes at the same time every time, each journalist scrambling to announce the news first.

The company hadn’t been so bad, though. The photographer he was with, Gordon, was nice. He was experienced and was there to make sure Castiel knew what he was doing when he didn’t have a clue, the two of them got on quite well. Castiel thought the work experience kid was downright adorable, and Castiel wasn’t sure he’d _ever_ used that word for someone.

“Sam _andriel_?” he’d asked, squinting at the piece of paper the kid’s name was written on to make sure he’d pronounced it properly.

“Uh, yeah,” the kid said, one hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck as his cheeks blushed “you can call me Sam,” he offered.

“Pleased to meet you, Sam,” Castiel had said with a smile, as he extended his arm out to shake his hand. Castiel was no stranger to flummoxed expressions when people read or heard his name for the first time.

Samandriel had diligently gone for coffee and lunch whenever they’d asked, and he blushed every time they’d given him the slightest compliment on how great a worker he was. Castiel and Gordon couldn’t leave the press compound in case they missed a statement or announcement so Samandriel was really quite a god send.

For most of the week, there had been barely anything noteworthy happening, all the key and major details of the case having come to light in the months and years that the case was going through the lower ranks – the real big news depended entirely on the outcome of the case on Friday and the all-important statement form Thomas Hollins and his legal team.

There was much excitement when the announcement came through that the Court had made their decision. There was even more excitement when the official statement came through that the Hollins and his family had won their case and Mr Hollins would be protected from extradition to the USA.

All the press had excitedly crowded round the entrance to the courts awaiting the statement from the legal team at around 2pm. By 4pm, there was general confusion, as no one had arrived. At 5pm, Castiel decided no one was going to arrive and thought that the best thing he could do would be to get home and write up his article as fast as possible so that it would make the paper in the morning.

He was stood in line at a corner shop, where he was buying some instant noodle shit to eat later, on the phone to Andy to keep him updated when something incredibly unexpected happened.

“I’m sorry Andy but we waited _three_ hours, they must have already left, Gordon agreed with me,” Castiel had affirmed. Andy was taking it well that they hadn’t got the quote, but Castiel figured it was in his best interests to reiterate how they hadn’t left lightly.

It was then that he heard someone clearing their breath behind him and felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked round; expecting to sternly regard whichever douchebag business man type (the area attracted them like a moth to flame) had touched him only to be surprised to see Dean Winchester was the culprit.

“Sorry Andy, I have to go,” Castiel muttered into the phone. “I’ll call you tomorrow morning when I’ve sent you the report over, ok?”

Castiel ended the call then looked back expectantly to Dean.

“I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation,” Dean began. Castiel sighed, there wasn’t much anyone could do about their lack of statement; he’d consoled himself with the fact that no one else would probably have one, either.

“It’s a shame, yeah,” Castiel said, not entirely sure where this was going. At the back of his mind he hoped it would be a repeat performance of their kiss on Saturday night. However, he suppressed that as well as he could, remembering how Dean had disappeared and how he’d never apologised for being such an utter douchebag.

“There was no statement from Mr Hollins and his family because I told them not to give any statement,” Dean confessed.

Castiel looked up at him, startled, slowly putting two and two together. Dean _was_ a human rights barrister, had he really not noticed it was him who would be representing Thomas Hollins in court?

“You mean you were representing him?”

“ _Am_ representing him,” Dean corrected with a proud flash of his white smile “and, if you’re still interested in getting a statement, I might be able to help you out with that,”


	7. Chapter 7

As it turned out, Dean was really rather amiable, or so Castiel thought. After they’d left the newsagents and Castiel had chased down Gordon and Samandriel so they could come and help him, Dean had taken them all to his offices where he’d arranged a meeting for them with him and Thomas Hollins himself.

Castiel couldn’t stop himself from feeling flattered when Dean had fussed around them all, but especially around him. Several times, they had eye contact for slightly _too_ long – playing chicken to see who would look away first. Castiel’s face always felt hot when it was him who had to look away, leaving Dean to gaze at him a second longer. He was sure he caught Dean smiling at him once or twice after occasions like that.

“Thank you,” Castiel had said when Dean’s assistant had handed him his second coffee.

They’d interviewed him for about forty minutes and Gordon was now working away snapping pictures of him. It was late now, though, dark outside, and Castiel was getting tired, having been at the courts early that morning in case of any sudden news.

However, his tiredness was something he was willing to forego because the work they’d got done with Hollins was nothing short of incredible. A lot of stuff had come out in the trial about Thomas Hollins and Castiel had never really thought there would have been much more. But the kid had _so much_ to say, Dean having spent a good twenty minutes briefing him before they started so that he couldn’t say anything that would get them in trouble, he was free to comment on every other aspect of his trial. This included prime fodder like the rough treatment the police had given him when they’d arrested him and the ridiculously unsympathetic attitude of the Home Secretary when he’d tried to contact her.

To say Castiel was going to be making an impact with this as his first story would be a huge understatement, and Castiel couldn’t have been happier for it. He’d rang Andy up and been promised at least a two page spread, he had to have it in by 4am, though, and time as ticking on.

Samandriel had left at 8pm and it was at 10:30 that Castiel and Gordon had exchanged wary glances, knowing that they should be going and getting to the editing suite soon if they were going to make the cut. Castiel thought it was a shame to go – they’d got so much good work done and it turned out that Thomas Hollins was actually a really great guy, a dream to interview.

Castiel’s suspicions about Dean being a really funny and friendly guy were confirmed, a little to Castiel’s chagrin but mostly to his pleasure. He’d been very accommodating and welcoming, explaining he only allowed interviews to the press if he could be sure they were in safe hands. The nervous glance at Castiel as he’d announced this hadn’t gone unnoticed, either.

As Cas and Gordon were about to leave, Dean had asked Castiel for a word outside. Castiel first checked Gordon didn’t need any help packing up all his complicated camera equipment and then nodded his agreement to Dean.

“Cas,” Dean began, and Castiel wasn’t sure quite when they’d got on terms where Dean could abbreviate his name so informally but he quite liked it “all that stuff you got back there, you have to treat it right, ok? Use the quotes in context; don’t get him in to any trouble, right?”

Castiel nodded, but before he could say anything, Dean continued “I trust you not to, of course. I don’t know why I trust you but you just seem like a nice guy,” Dean blushed “but I just have to let you know, you know?” he finished and looked down at Castiel, perhaps seeking some form of approval.

“Of course, Dean,” Castiel said “Gordon assures me we have lots of excellent material, it won’t be a problem to use it correctly,” he smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way, before adding on “I can’t thank you enough for letting us come and conduct this interview, it’s invaluable, honestly,” Castiel really wasn’t sure how to express the gratitude he felt towards Dean. He guessed it was because, very generally, no one did things for him on such a grand scale that he felt he couldn’t return the favour.

“Well, good,” Dean replied, hesitating before obviously steeling himself “Cas, we should, if you want to I mean, we should go out sometime, together, just the two of us,”

“I’d like that,” Castiel found himself saying, mentally cursing his rashness as he did so. Of course, any immediate irritation at his lack of ability to appear nonchalant was wiped out instantly by the dazzling smile that lit up Dean’s face.

“Great,” Dean smiled, “here’s my number,” he said, handing Castiel a smart looking business card.

“Thank you,” Castiel said as he took the card, careful not to let his fingers brush against Dean’s for too long. “Is there anything else you need me for?”

“Nah,” he said smiling “You have a busy night ahead if you if your photographer’s to be believed!”

“I don’t think Gordon’s one to over exaggerate, sadly. Thanks again, Dean,” Castiel said, turning back into the room so he could get Gordon and they could go.

“Cas, wait,” Castiel heard Dean’s voice behind him before he felt a sharp tug on the sleeve of his coat and found himself being whisked around so that Dean was startlingly close to him.

“Dean, I-” but Castiel had no time to protest before Dean’s lips met his, hot and urgent, and their bodies were pressed together for several fleeting seconds before Dean pulled away. Castiel looked up at him quizzically, not saying anything but hoping the question was obvious in his expression.

“Yep,” Dean grinned, and Castiel couldn’t help but notice how much more attractive his grin was when his lips were a little smudged from kissing “definitely as good as I remember it,”

Castiel couldn’t stop himself from pulling Dean’s head closer again and pecking him lightly on the lips. “Goodbye Dean,” he said, turning round and escaping to Gordon before Dean had time to pull him round again and see the satisfied smirk that had formed on his face.


	8. Chapter 8

To say the article was a success would have been an understatement. Castiel and Gordon had to work straight up until their 4am deadline to make sure it was perfect, but, as Andy had proudly informed him, it was the highest selling edition of the Evening Mail for five years.

Charlie had demanded they have some sort of celebration, and that was how what was meant to be a small Sunday dinner party of select guests at Castiel’s cousin, Hester’s house had turned into a spectacular that even the most hard-core party-goers would have been proud of.

Not that Castiel could say he minded; he silently dreaded Hester’s dinner parties – they inevitably turned in to a showcase of all of his coupled friends, Castiel often being the token single guy turning up on his own. Happily, Victor, Pam and Charlie had all gatecrashed with him and he’d even rang Meg up, who’d promised to show her face later on.

One person Castiel certainly hadn’t been expecting to see at Hester’s dinner party was Dean Winchester, so it was to his surprise when he turned up, looking a little shocked if not amused at the merry shenanigans that had overrun Hester’s house. Castiel, however, had been even more shocked when he saw Dean arrive to the party with a very female, very pretty date on his arm. It was the pretty dark haired lady that Castiel had seen with Dean from the night of the book launch he’d helped Balthazar with.

“Fuck him,” he heard in his ear, and startled, he looked around to see Meg standing next to him, regarding the couple who had just walked in and who were being warmly greeted by Hester.

Castiel was happy to see his friend, but confused at the same time. He hadn’t told anyone about what had been going on with him and Dean, least of all Meg who he’d barely spoken to since her impromptu arrival at his flat a week or so earlier. He tried to smile, which wasn’t easy when considering the hurt and betrayal curling up in his chest that he wasn’t even sure he had any right to feel. He was considering how he’d phrase his response so that he’d throw Meg off when she spoke again, interrupting his thought process.

“Castiel, hon, if you don’t want me to know who you’re making plans on, then at least have the decency to hide your disappointment when you spot them turn up with a date,” she said, winking slyly at him as she pulled him over to where people were dancing. Castiel resisted the urge, as they walked, to glance over for one last look at Dean, not wanting to let Meg know she was right so soon.

“I’m not ‘making plans’ on Dean,” he said, resenting how vulgar Meg had made the whole thing sound.

“Huh, is that so?” she said, smiling as she pulled Castiel close to her so she could whisper in his ear. “I call bullshit, Clarence,” she breathed, before pulling away and spinning Castiel in time with the fast paced music which someone had somehow programmed to play out of Hester’s state of the art sound system.

“Yes,” Castiel huffed as they slowed down, hating Meg for how amused she seemed by the whole situation.

“Isn’t he the one who got you the interview for your big article, huh?” she asked, her brow furrowing even though Castiel knew full well she already knew the answer to her question.

“He is, yes,” he admitted.

“He’s not _also_ the same jerk who blew you off over Christmas, is he?” Meg practically drawled the words, like she always did, but Castiel could see her brain working over time trying to piece together the whole situation and again, he knew she knew his answer before he spoke.

“Yes,” he sighed.

“And who caught you jacking Balthazar off in the hotel function room?” Meg said, unable to hide her grin.

Castiel flushed, thinking how that certain point was definitely not one that needed brining up again, especially in a room full of his distant relatives.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’” Meg smiled. “’Cause what I really wanna know is how you went from positively hating each other’s guts to him making all of _this_ happen,” she said, gesturing around the room to the party taking place.

Sighing, Castiel nodded his assent to explaining everything to Meg, and lightly tapped her on the shoulder as he walked out of the room, indicating that she should come with him.

They sat on the step of Hester’s pristine patio, overlooking the small green patch of land that she called, by some technicality, a garden. In reality, Castiel didn’t think a 10 foot by 6 foot area of grass could ever count as a garden, but they were in London after all, and outdoor space at came at a premium.

And that was how, for the second time in almost as many weeks, Castiel ended up telling Meg all about the bizarre encounters that made up his love life. Meg, again, made the right noises at all the right places, listening intently as Castiel told her about both of Dean’s kisses.

All the while, Meg was taking small drags on what Castiel was almost certain from its shape and smell wasn’t a cigarette. Castiel didn’t mind though, almost enjoying the irony that Meg was smoking weed in his perfect cousin’s perfect house.

Meg was thoughtful by the time Castiel finished, and, flicking at the end of her joint, put her arm around him and pulled his head to rest against her shoulder.

“Hold on in there, Clarence,” she told him, before drawing his chin up so he could look her in the eye and see her smile “I think this one might just be worth it,”

Castiel wasn’t sure exactly what she meant by that, but he was happy to accept her advice. He was even happier to stay sat outside with Meg. For the end of January, it was surprisingly temperate, and Hester’s fancy patio heaters meant it wasn’t uncomfortable to sit outside in an unexpectedly happy silence with Meg; Castiel’s head on her shoulder and Meg’s arm wrapped around Castiel’s back.

The party inside was going on happily without the two of them, Castiel knew that sooner or later, one of his friends would come out, looking for him and he’d be dragged back inside, but in the meantime, he was more than content sat out here under the night sky.

His stomach also contorted slightly at the thought of going inside to be met with the sight of Dean with his date once more. Castiel felt silly for being so hurt by it, but he’d allowed himself to get his hopes up that he might actually have something with Dean. Not unreasonably so, either, he reminded himself of Dean’s words, how he’d emphasised that he only gave interviews to those people who he’d trusted. How he’d pulled him back for a kiss that made no sense at all unless Dean really did have romantic inclinations towards him. He'd  _asked him out_ for God's sake.

Maybe Dean just didn’t do exclusivity. That would make sense, especially considering what Balthazar had told him about his wife cheating on him with Dean.

Could Castiel live with a relationship that was so open? No, he didn’t think so. Maybe when he was younger he might have entertained the idea, but not now. No, he wanted someone who would curl up with him on cold winter nights much like this one, who would holiday with him in cliché romantic retreats in summer time. He didn’t want the headache of worrying about who else his partner might be getting in bed with.

He wasn’t sure how long he was sat there with Meg, he didn’t think it had been too long but he was still startled when he heard the familiar sound of someone clearing their throat behind him. He didn’t move to look, he didn’t want to speak to Dean much, but Meg’s head whipped round so fast to check out who was there that she dislodged Castiel’s own position, and not wanting to be rude, he ended up clunkily turning round to regard the man behind him, hoping he didn’t look as stupid and forlorn as he felt.

“Speak of the devil and the devil shall appear,” Meg hummed, Castiel hoped low enough that Dean didn’t catch what she’d said. “I’m gonna go mingle Castiel,” she said, her voice more clear and perky as she did so “I hope I’m leaving you in safe hands with _Dean_?” she asked, looking up at Dean as though she wasn’t sure who he was, when of course she was.

“Uh, thanks,” Dean said brusquely, “Cas’ll be fine with me,” he added.

“I hope so,” she said, as she jumped up and headed towards the door, Castiel himself trying not to smile at how much it sounded like a threat.

All too quickly, though, Meg was gone and Castiel was sat outside on Hester’s patio with Dean Winchester, who he’d been trying to avoid, stood awkwardly next to him.

“Mind if I sit?” Dean asked, waiting for Castiel’s nod of approval before he did, taking the spot next to Castiel where Meg had been sat. Cas tried not to notice how stupidly close Dean was sat to him for someone who’d brought a date.

Castiel didn’t say anything, though, unsure of what would be entirely appropriate as well as being unconvinced that he wouldn’t say something dumb or derogatory about Dean’s date, who sadly did seem very nice. Instead, he waited for Dean to talk, which after a pain staking amount of silence, he did.

“Your cousin’s house is really nice, Cas,” he said, but he could have been talking to anyone if he hadn’t said it out loud, he wasn’t looking at Castiel, instead staring fixedly at some spot at the back of the garden.

“I’ll pass on your appreciation,” Castiel replied, cursing himself for how bitter and curt his words came out.

“I didn’t know you’d be here tonight,” Dean said, which was a surprise. Castiel presumed Dean knew his family well enough, what with being invited to the turkey buffet at Christmas, to know who would be invited to what parties. He couldn’t help the surprised noise that escaped his mouth in response, making Dean chuckle dryly.

“I might have thought twice about bringing Lisa along as my date if I’d known,” Dean continued. That surprised Castiel, surely if Dean and _Lisa_ , the woman’s name appeared to be, were anything serious, then Dean would have brought her along with him without any doubts.

“Why?” Castiel asked, figuring there was no reason to be coy about the matter.

This earned him another light chuckle from Dean, who reached over and took Castiel’s hand in his own.

“Because you’re here,” he said, and now Castiel had to turn to look him in the eye, to make sure he was being as sincere as he thought he was being. “And I meant it when I said we should go out some time, Cas,”

Castiel felt light flutters in his chest despite himself, and mentally told himself off for being so easily charmed by Dean. No, being easily charmed hadn’t ever worked out so well for him; Dean definitely had more explaining to do.

“Then why bring Lisa at all?” he prodded, slightly uncomfortable at using Lisa’s name, but needing an answer to his question.

Dean shrugged.

“It’s not a big deal. I work with Lisa, we’re both single, we’re both available as each other’s dates when we have dinner parties or _book launches_ to attend,” he said, smiling cheekily at Castiel as he emphasised the ‘book launches’ part of his sentence. Castiel felt his cheeks flush gently.

“You’re not together then?”

“We are most definitely _not_ together,” Dean confirmed, smiling at Castiel and squeezing his hand gently. “We were, years ago,” he added, looking over to Castiel for confirmation that this was ok. Castiel’s heart sank a little.

“That makes sense,” Cas muttered, far more bitterly than he’d intended.

“Makes sense?” Dean echoed. “Cas, what do you mean?”

“Guys like you go for girls like Lisa, not _guys_ like me.”

Castiel regretted it as soon as he’d said it. He regretted even more the hurt look that had flashed across Dean’s face as he’d emphasised the word ‘guys’. Yep, there were definitely some kind of coming out issues Dean was working through; he’d overstepped the mark with his comment.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted, before he could stop himself, “I mean-,”

Dean kissed him before he could talk anymore; he felt a firm hand against the back of his neck, pulling him in deeply to their kiss, as a strong arm curled around his waist. Castiel’s startled brain struggled to keep up with exactly what was happening, but as soon as he did, he kissed Dean back, trying to match blow for blow the careful caresses of Dean’s lips against his own.

“I like _guys,_ ” Dean breathed against his mouth, “I like _guys_ like you, Cas,” he said, pressing another kiss to Castiel’s lips as though he was unable to stop himself when they were so close. “Just the way you are,” he added, before his lips were on Castiel’s again and his tongue was carefully parting Castiel’s lips. The next couple of minutes were a heady blur of Dean; pulling Dean closer, hoping to God no one came out in to the garden as Castiel found himself pulling desperately against Dean’s shirt, wanting more; gentle presses of lips and soft gasps every time they parted a little.

Eventually, Castiel pulled away, this was not the time or place for making out with a hot guy. He was not seventeen anymore, this was a _dinner party_ , or was meant to be a dinner party at least, and Castiel had a certain level of professionalism to live up to when he was around his cousins. He smiled warily at Dean as he pulled away though, wishing they were somewhere where they could have carried on.

“We should go back inside,” he said, noting that his breathlessness didn’t go unnoticed as he observed Dean smiling, looking down at his lips.

“On one condition,” Dean said, his fond smile not wavering as he looked Castiel straight in the eyes. “We go out for that drink soon, ok?”

And how could Castiel resist when Dean’s intricately green eyes were smiling over at him with such unabashed affection that Castiel’s stomach twisted contentedly just at the sight of them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all like it! Thanks to everyone who left kudos, you're all lovely :)  
> I have the rest of the story planned out pretty well, so updates should be pretty frequent - thanks again! x


	9. Chapter 9

Castiel lasted all of three days before he caved and texted Dean on Wednesday to ask if he wanted to go out. On Thursday, a huge bouquet of lilies had arrived at the Evening Mail offices, addressed to Castiel. Andy had looked surprised but didn’t say anything; there wasn’t much Castiel could do wrong after his Thomas Hollins spectacular, as it was now commonly known in the office.

Attached to the lilies was a small envelope with Castiel’s name on, that he opened when he’d fetched the lilies back to his desk, sighing slightly at the extravagance and wondering how exactly the sender presumed he was going to fetch them back to his flat on the busy London transport system. The note read:

_Min Jiang, Kensington, 7pm tomorrow – dress smart. Dean._

Huh, well that was one way to ask him out to dinner, Castiel thought. And, try as he might to focus on the impracticality of Dean’s gesture, Cas couldn’t help but be a little flattered that Dean had gone to such efforts to invite him out to dinner. He’d texted back yesterday, of course, asking if Friday evening would be ok with Castiel, which it was, and then to say that he’d be in touch with the details. Castiel had thought ‘be in touch’ meant ‘I’ll text you soon’, as opposed to the huge bouquet he instead found himself with.

Yes, the flowers were extravagant. But Castiel still couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as he carried out his work for the rest of the day.

When she’d come round that night, Charlie had nearly fallen off his sofa when he explained why he had a massive bunch of lilies imposing on his modest coffee table.

“How did you even get them _home,_ Cas?!” she’d asked, incredulous.

“Gordon gave me a lift,” Castiel admitted, shrugging as though it was no problem.

“Am I missing something here?” Charlie asked, after a moment of consideration. “How do you go from getting an interview off him to flowers being delivered at work?”

Castiel blushed, he knew he was going to have to tell her what had been going on with him and Dean, but he’d presumed it would be more on his terms; rather than Charlie walking in on the mass of flowers he’d been gifted.

“We might have kissed,” he said, watching Charlie’s reaction carefully. “Uh, three times,” he added.

“Do you like him, Cas?” she asked, stringing out the word ‘like’ as though they were still twelve year olds talking about crushes.

Castiel shrugged, again. Truth be told, he did like Dean, a lot, he thought, but he was still wary of him, his behaviour at Christmas still hadn’t been explained and, try as he did to overlook it, it was something they needed to talk about.

“Uh-oh,” Charlie said, noting his hesitance to respond. “Do we need to talk about this one, Cas? Want me to whoop his ass for you?”

Castiel smiled at his friend. “I don’t think ‘ass-whooping’ will be necessary here, but thank you, Charlie,”

“Anytime,” she smiled. “But seriously, pour me a glass of wine and we’ll talk?”

“You’re incorrigible,” he tutted, but went to the kitchen to retrieve the half full bottle of Pinot Grigio in the fridge, bought entirely for this kind of situation.

**~**

The evening had passed in a comfortably giddy way that Cas found you only really get with close friends. Charlie had told him all about her attempts at wooing Gilda, Dean and Sam’s friend who she’d gotten close to. Charlie had dismally told him of how much it sucked that she was going home to Italy next week and it was unlikely they’d see much more of each other. Castiel had done his best to distract her with thoughts of their planned trip to Paris in Summer and all the gorgeous _mademoiselles_ there.

When she’d left, she’d reiterated her promise to whoop Dean’s ass if he pulled any funny moves like he had at Christmas, before she’d hugged him tight and wished him good luck.

Castiel had showered and clambered in to bed at the ripe old hour of 2am and, before he knew it, it was Friday and his dinner date with Dean was upon him.

He left work early, at 3, promising Andy he’d have his report on the decline of the bee population in South London handed in well before his Sunday evening deadline, and had promptly spent the next three hours worrying about everything that could possibly go wrong.

To start with, he had worried about what he would wear. He knew _Min Jiang_ was posh, but what exactly did Dean mean when he’d said to ‘dress smart’? Several times, he had contemplated ringing him up directly to ask what he should wear, but he’d chickened out every single time.

On his third attempt at ringing her, Pamela had answered and had advised him to wear a suit with no tie; taking great delight as she did so in the fact that Castiel was off on a proper date. He neglected to mention exactly who he was going on a date with, figuring Pamela would work it out sooner or later, especially if she spoke to Charlie any time soon.

Then he found himself worrying about what the hell he and Dean were supposed to talk about, did they even have anything in common? Taking deep breaths, he'd reminded himself that the whole point of going on a date was to work out if they had anything in common, test these kind of things. They would work something out, or at least he really hoped that they would.

Castiel would have arrived fifteen minutes early to Min Jiang had he not hung around the corner for ten minutes, not keen on being the first to arrive. However, by the time it was 6.55, he couldn’t wait any longer, so cautiously made his way in to the restaurant.

He spotted Dean almost instantly, sat on the far side of the restaurant with a slight frown etched into his handsome face. He smiled when he looked up and saw Castiel and eagerly waved him over. The door staff smiled at him, and someone took his coat, before leading the way over to his table with Dean.

“You got my message then?” Dean grinned.

“I did, thank you,” Castiel said, smiling, hoping that he wasn’t coming across as ungrateful.

“No sweat,” Dean said, and god he looked gorgeous with his smile so eager, so far from how he had been when he first met Castiel. It was almost like the very first smile that Castiel had been charmed with when he saw Dean at Christmas, looking at his mother. How strange that Dean was now regarding him with such a similar level of affection.

He realised a little later than he should have that he’d been staring at Dean’s lips, and so quickly forced his gaze upwards to Dean’s eyes. He noticed with a start that Dean was blushing, he must have seen Castiel gazing at his lips, the thought made Castiel himself blush, and he was grateful when Dean spoke, clearing the heavy atmosphere that had rapidly developed between the two of them.

“What do you want to drink, Cas?”

Castiel frowned, he had no idea what was acceptable to drink in a restaurant like this and he hadn’t had a chance to study the menu yet so he wasn’t even sure what they offered.

“What would you recommend?”

Dean seemed to consider this for a second, before obviously stumbling across a suggestion he deemed acceptable.

“They do amazing cocktails here,” he said, smiling at Castiel “do you prefer your drinks sweet or not?” he enquired.

Castiel thought for a second before deciding sweet, it was easier to pass of as enjoyable than anything too bitter. He also hoped sweetness might cancel out the alcohol a little; he didn’t badly want to be drunk tonight. He didn’t quite catch the name of the cocktail Dean then ordered for him, as well as smoothly requesting a jug of water from the waitress and a beer for himself, but the drink now sat in front of him was a pale yellow colour and surprisingly palatable.

“Beer?” Castiel had asked when the waitress had left them to their drinks.

“Beer.” Dean repeated with a smile. “Hey, just cause I have the flashy job, doesn’t mean I have to order all the flashy drinks.”

“But you _do_ still dine at the flashy restaurants,” Castiel said, with a tip of his head and a smile playing on his lips. Dean Winchester was confusing; he was giving the impression that he didn’t seem to care much for the high class lifestyle he engaged in, and yet he was so immersed in it still.

“Only when I’m trying to impress,” Dean said, and now it was Castiel’s turn to blush, flattered that Dean had chosen to take him somewhere like this purely so he could impress him.

Castiel was less pleased about Dean’s choice of restaurant when he saw the menu, more specifically, the prices of the menu. He was pretty sure small families could live for a week from the cost of some of the main meals; the thought making him feel a little sick. But Dean had insisted that he order whatever took his fancy, promising that he would be paying for their food.

Castiel let him on the condition that he would be both paying and choosing the location of their next date. Dean’s eyebrows had quirked at the word ‘next’ but he’d grinned and happily agreed to Castiel’s terms.

Conversation flew easily between the two of them; Castiel told Dean all about his ridiculous large family, his kinda awesome friends and also some choice details about his new job, after Dean had inquired as to how it was going.

Dean in turn told Castiel about his family – Castiel learning that he’d chosen the legal profession because it was something of a family tradition, with Dean’s dad John and his father before him all having been lawyers of some sort. Castiel was getting the distinct impression that Dean didn’t really enjoy the career path he’d chosen until Dean had started talking about some of his past cases. His eyes had lit up happily as he told him of various people he’d managed to save from deportation or extradition, as well as several times he’d been involved in human rights cases.

Dean had smiled bashfully and ducked his head down when Castiel had told him how wonderful the work he did was, unable to hide his admiration any longer.

“It’s just what I do,” Dean had said “Helping people with my legal might,” he’d continued, laughing at the pomposity of his own words, “the ‘family business’, I guess you could say I was always gonna do it,” he finished, complete with air quotes.

Castiel thought that laughter really suited Dean, he was one of those people who couldn’t hide when they were genuinely amused by something; his eyes would crinkle slightly in the corner and his whole face worked into such huge smiles that Castiel always felt a little proud every time he managed to evoke such emotion. Even if he wasn’t quite sure how or why he managed to make Dean laugh most of the time.

“You have an American accent,” Castiel had said, out of the blue, during a pause in conversation when they’d both been quietly tucking into their meals.

“I do,” Dean replied, smiling over at Cas “Not many people notice it actually,” he admitted, his eyes fixing genuinely on Castiel’s.

“How come?” Castiel queried.

“How come no one notices or how come I have an American accent?” Dean clarified, his smile still warm and sincere.

“Both,” Castiel answered; he wanted to know why Dean had it, but since Dean had mentioned it, he was also interested to know why he didn’t think people noticed his accent.

“I guess people don’t expect me to have an American accent, so they don’t look for it,” Dean told him simply “Sammy tells me it only comes out when I’m most relaxed anyway,” he admitted, and Castiel noticed his cheeks flush slightly at the implications of his admission.

“And why do you have an American accent?” Castiel prompted, hoping he wasn’t coming across as rude. Dean smiled at him, though, seemingly happy to answer, so Castiel wasn’t concerned for too long.

“I was raised there until I was ten.” Dean said. “Our house burnt down and my parents decided it would be best for all of us if we relocated. They decided on London, Sammy was only six, I guess he never had enough time to pick up the accent so much,” he explained, looking almost wistful.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel replied, his hand involuntarily reaching out to take Dean’s in his own as he did so “about your house, I mean,”

Fleetingly, Castiel noticed Dean’s eyes shift around nervously, as though checking no one was observing them, before he squeezed Castiel’s hand in his own in response, not letting go as he responded.

“It’s ok, we didn’t lose anything important,” he smiled “and I really like London, I always have done, I stayed here after I qualified and everything!” he breezily confessed.

“I’m glad you did,” Castiel told him quietly. He cursed himself for a second when Dean seemed not to respond to that, had he been too forward? But, just as he was about to babble some apology, Dean’s expression visibly softened and he gave Castiel’s hand another firm little squeeze.

“Me too, Cas,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Swaying a little from the BJD premise but we'll be coming back to it soon enough, the evening will continue in the next chapter - coming up shortly! 
> 
> Thanks again to all you cuties who have left kudos and commented and stuff, you're all great and I love you :)


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